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When I was seven years old I got caught in a hail storm. The hailstones were so big that I cried at the pain. That was the first time I remember being overawed by the weather. But it wasn't the last time...
Whirly Winds in Britain
"Britain doesn't get hurricanes"
Those
of you who live in the south-east of England will know about the Great Storm which struck
on an October night in 1987. Today you can still see some of the millions of trees which
were uprooted.
I woke up at 2am that night. The wind was so noisy that I decided to go into my office and
get on with some work. Although the wind roared and howled all night, I wasn't aware of
what was happening outside until it grew light.
All along the road were parked cars which had been squashed by falling trees. Behind my house there had been, the day before, a beautiful wood on a hill. Not any more. In its place was a tangled mass of uprooted ancient trees that had been growing for hundreds of years. From a distance it looked as if a bomb had flattened the wood completely. I realised how lucky I'd been when I saw that a neighbour's tree, if it had tipped over another metre, would have crashed into the room where I had been working.
The newspapers said we'd been hit by a hurricane. The weather experts said that that was ridiculous because Britain doesn't have hurricanes. The truth of the matter was that the storm had started life as a hurricane in North America, and had travelled across the Atlantic Ocean. Officially, it wasn't a hurricane when it hit Britain, but when your car has been crushed, your house has lost its roof, or your local railway line has been blocked by dozens of fallen trees, it doesn't matter much whether it was a hurricane or a storm that caused so much damage and chaos.
"Britain doesn't get tornadoes"
A few years ago I looked out of my office window and saw something that I'd only ever seen in pictures or on television. About eight miles away, on the edge of a vast storm cloud, was a tornado. And behind it were two more! I was actually watching a row of three tornadoes. I grabbed my video camera and managed to film the little rascals before they faded away. In my excitement I accidentally rewound the tape and recorded over the top. This was a real shame because no-one believed me. "Don't be stupid," they all said. "We don't get tornadoes in Britain."
Two days later I was pleased to see a short item in the paper saying that someone had spotted a tornado in exactly the same place where I had seen mine. What amazed me even more was what happened the next week. I saw another tornado in exactly the same place but, this time, it disappeared before I had time to grab my video camera.
"Britain doesn't get whirlwinds"
I t was a scorching-hot day in the middle of summer. To add to the discomfort of the heat there was very little breeze. I was at a country fair where there were lots of exhibitions, stalls and events. In front of me was an information tent, about the size of a tent used by a family on a camping holiday.
Suddenly, there was a whoosh. The tent collapsed as if it had been squeezed by a giant hand but, instead of falling to the ground, rose up into the air a metre or two. The tent had been full of leaflets and brochures. They were sucked upwards, spinning and twisting as they rose higher and higher. For a moment or two I was ready to believe in magic. How could a whirlwind suddenly appear on a calm day?
All around me people looked on in astonishment as the hundreds of sheets of paper gradually sank back to earth. Of the whirlwind there was no sign. It disappeared as quickly as it arrived. If it had happened a couple of hundred years ago, everyone would have been crossing themselves and asking God to protect them from demons. I confess that I felt a prickling on the back of my neck when I saw that only one tent had been 'attacked' by the mysterious whirlwind.
But the weather is like that: it can sometimes make you wonder about superstitions, magic, and supernatural forces.